Page 23 of A Fate so Wicked

I couldn’t comprehend how one moment I was riding Sugarfoot without a care in the world, and the next, I was a prisoner in a deadly game of freedom. I was powerless. All I could do was watch as everything unfolded while straddling the dangerous line between life and death.

Could I take a life? I held my hands out in front of me, feeling detached from myself and my surroundings, as if I were an observer in my body. Stars, how badly I prayed this was a bad dream.

I pinched my forearm to no avail and let out an incredulous laugh. “Keep it together, Elowyn,” I told myself. “Stay focused.”

Running my hands down my face, I stood up and padded over to the bathroom. There was no need for a shower, I determined, not when we were going to be assessed—whatever that’d entailed. Instead, I ran the sink, cupped water in my hands, and splashed it onto my face repeatedly—until my nerves settled.

I drew in a sharp breath as I prepared to face myself in the mirror, anticipating the severity of my injury. My shoulders relaxed when I saw the cut and brought a finger up to touch it. It wasn’t too bad, but it’d likely leave a small scar without sutures. It could’ve been worse, I thought.

Recalling the lacerations from the water attack, I rubbed the wound with water to clean it out. Without proper supplies, it wouldn’t do much. But it did make me feel better—cleaner.

A knock sounded at the door as I was finishing up, and I hurried to answer it, finding the seamstress from earlier on the other side. “Elowyn Rosewood?”

“Yes?”

The seamstress nodded, scouring the three-tiered cart of various baskets beside her before checking the board in her hands. “In here, you’ll find your training clothes.” She dropped a small cloth bag into my arms. “Your trial attire is in this one. This bag consists of approved day clothes and these”—she dropped a fourth bag on top of the stack—“are your lounge clothes.”

My arms strained from the weight, and I dropped them on the floor beside me.

“If you have any issues with anything, let me know,” the seamstress finished and scurried off before I could thank her, already knocking on the door across the corridor.

I shut mine behind her and hunched over to pull the training leathers from the bag. Peeling the dirt-covered clothes from my body, I scrunched my nose at the smell that wafted from me and realized there was no way, with a good conscience, I could face anyone like that.

So, I hurried back into the bathroom to wipe myself down, focusing most of my attention under my arms, until I no longer smelled like death. And river water.

I held the training leathers up to my body and shook my head—there was no way these were going to fit. She must’ve mixed up the bags.

Sucking in, I pulled them on, twisting and contorting my body to get them to fit, but the material clung to every movement. One wrong step and they’d rip to shreds.

Though, I must admit that they weren’t half bad. The leather hugged me in all the right places, accentuated the little curves I had and smoothed out my waist. Some of the other humans had been there much longer than I had; their muscle tone had withered to almost nothing. Running a hand over the shape of my body, I forced myself to confront this advantage.

I tilted my head.

Loose, billowing clothing was my standard attire. Having my figure on full display made me uncomfortable. How could anyone see it as an advantage when some of the humans appeared half-starved in comparison?

Turning from side to side, from back to front, I checked every angle. I’d never been insecure about my body, but the longer I inspected myself, the harder it became not to feel self-conscious. After all, I was only human.

What a strange concept that was now—my morality—and how truly human I was. Being around such beautiful, immortal beings was bound to do that. As was their flippant disregard for my life. It put things into a bleak perspective, that was for sure.

Three loud chimes rang throughout the castle, startling me, and I opened the door to peek into the hallway. Breana and Lewis’s heads appeared as well—their faces as confused as mine as we waited for orders.

“Assessments are in ten minutes, competitors,” the emerald-eyed faerie announced, his attention focused on me. “Get dressed. Be in the corridor in five minutes or forfeit the trials.”

I fidgeted under his scrutiny, ducked back into my room, and pulled a ribbon from the bag before securing my hair out of my face.

With a shaky breath, I stilled my trembling hands before joining everyone in the hallway, keeping my gaze straight ahead to avoid the faerie guard.

Here goes nothing.

Seven

We filed into the throne room one by one, taking our spots against the back wall.

The entire fae court was still in attendance, jeering and taunting us as we entered. They were ruthless. Their shrills inhuman as they awaited their show.

There was no music this time, only the symphony of insults and derogatory comments. Nor was there opulent light dancing along the walls.

I drew in a sharp breath.

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